Virginia Henley (26 page)

He looked with arrogance at the swarms of people. “Idlers and parasites! Mostly slaves of the wealthy. Their tasks are so few they have too much time on their hands, which they spend gambling and indulging in coarse sexual encounters.”

Marcus was embarrassed at how much his city’s mores had degenerated. People did things openly in the streets that should have only taken place in privacy. Men pissed in the gutters and whores serviced their customers in doorways. He thanked his gods that Aquae Sulis would never sink to this level.

Finally, they left the more commercial districts behind as they ascended the hills. They now passed larger public buildings such as the baths and temples, and establishments that catered to wealth. Imposing triumphal arches spanned avenues and heroic statues in prancing chariots turned this section of the city into a showplace.

The architecture was in the Greek style, but rather more embellished, and in Diana’s opinion, rather vulgar. Each and every column was overdone in the ornate, florid Corinthian style, and the garish blue, green, and orange marble was in rather poor taste, with far too many scrolls and floriated designs.

When they arrived at the villa of Titus Magnus, however, Diana could find no fault in its superb taste, though she was staggered when she contemplated what it must have cost. Its unremarkable exterior only added to the shock of her senses when she stepped through the lofty Ionic pillars of the portal.

All the chambers were built around open courts, each with its garden, pool, and fountain. Light and sun streamed in everywhere. The rooms leading from the first court were both numerous and spacious. An open balcony encircled the upper story. A dozen slaves met them at the entrance, while another dozen entered the atrium, carrying cooled drinks and sweetmeats. All wore pale yellow togas with ram’s head insignias on their shoulders.

Diana hung back, watching Marcus and Petrius stride into the first court and greet the older slaves who had been with the family for years. Marcus turned back and brought her forward.

“How many slaves?” she whispered.

“A hundred and fifty when I was here last.” He squeezed her hand. “Don’t let it overwhelm you.” He led her down a magnificent, light-bathed hall until they entered a second court, even larger and handsomer than the first, with another array of dependent chambers. The floors were made of mosaic tile, the walls and pillars of pale Luna marble. In the center, graceful dancing nymphs shot great jets of crystal water into a circular white marble pool, edged with luxurious water plants. Sculptures and fine art objects upon carved pedestals were scattered throughout the villa.

The majordomo, Lucas, greeted Marcus warmly.
“Your father is in his chamber and asks that you go to him. He is not as young and vigorous as you remember him,” Lucas cautioned him, “but his pride is still intact. He sends greetings to your lady and will see her at dinner.”

Lucas clapped his hands and a dozen olive-skinned slave girls came forward. “I chose these female slaves for your lady. They will have no other duties but to attend her. I have taken the liberty to choose a suit of rooms for her overlooking the peristyle garden, not too distant from your own chambers, General.”

Marcus’ eyebrows rose with amusement. “The arrangements are rather formal, as is your address, Lucas.”

“Now that you are a general, it is only proper to use your formal address. After the wedding you and your bride will require a larger suite.”

Marcus’ lips twitched as he thought of the separate sleeping arrangements. He would try to be discreet until they were married, when he could openly take Diana to his bed.

“Put yourself in the girls’ hands,” Marcus told Diana. “I know you are longing to bathe and change your clothes. If you don’t have enough maids, there are plenty more female slaves with idle hours to fill.”

The girls led Diana away and Tor followed doggedly, his hand on his flagellum. Once they were all inside her sleeping chamber, they giggled and touched his muscles with delight. Tor looked as though he’d died and gone to heaven.

One of the slave girls turned to Diana to speak. “My name is Livi, my lady. Do we have your permission to see to your bodyguard’s needs, as well as yours?”

Tor rolled his eyes in supplication toward Diana. The corners of her mouth went up with the wickedness of her thoughts. “I want you to keep him happy. Do you suppose you could take turns? He will sleep in the adjoining chamber. Does it have a couch?”

The girls opened the adjoining door to show them that
indeed the chamber was furnished with a sleeping couch. She stepped into the room with him for a moment.

“Thank you, Lady Diana,” Tor said fervently.

“Keep your weapon ready at all times,” she cautioned with a straight face.

“I will, lady,” he assured her.

“I feel sure Livi and her girls will be able to keep you reasonably happy. The question is, are you up to keeping them happy?” Laughing, Diana went through the door into her own chamber, leaving Tor grinning from ear to ear.

Petrius coveted his father’s wealth. He had always been wildly jealous that Marcus was firstborn and the heir. But at least until now he had been Marcus’ sole heir. As Primus Pilus, then general in the Roman army, the odds were against his brother surviving past his prime. Until now all Petrius had to exercise was patience, and everything would be his. Now that Marcus was about to marry, however, all that would change. Marcus’ children would become his heirs and Petrius would receive only a small share of the family wealth.

On the voyage to Rome, he had done his utmost to persuade Marcus against marriage. He had vilified women in general as faithless bitches who sold themselves to the highest bidder. He pointed out that a concubine could be controlled; a wife could not. But when his insinuations moved from women in general to Diana, Marcus had not taken it kindly. Especially when Petrius hinted of impropriety with her virile young bodyguard. His brother’s black eyes had glittered dangerously.

“I think I am capable of controlling my woman, Petrius. Keep your vile tongue and your vile thoughts from her, if you wish to remain healthy.”

“Marcus, you mistake me. It’s the shackles of matrimony I warn you against, not Diana. If your mind is made
up to marry, you couldn’t have chosen a more beautiful bride.”

Petrius had only one avenue left open to him, before he would be forced to do something quite drastic. When he went in to greet his father, he was dismayed to learn that the old man’s brain had not deteriorated along with his body.

“There is a most serious matter I must bring to your attention, Father. Marcus is a love-sick fool who cannot see that this woman marries him for gain. She cannot wait to get her hands on your wealth. I swear to you she was his slave. Your grandsons will be the offspring of a slave!”

Titus closed his eyes to ease the pain Petrius’ words brought him. After a moment’s silence he opened his eyes and looked at his handsome son. “You think I should change my will.” It was a statement, rather than a question.

“Yes, I do, Father. If he is determined to bring shame upon the House of Magnus, he should not receive the lion’s share of our wealth. The woman is a slut who fornicates with her own bodyguard. She even accepted my advances.”

“She must be very beautiful to tempt you, Petrius.”

“She is. She tempts every man who glimpses her.”

“Beauty can be a curse, Petrius. I believe your beauty is a curse. I shall change my will. But I’m afraid it won’t make you very happy. You see, I, too, am cursed, Petrius. Cursed by one son while being blessed by the other. I had hoped a military career would at least cure you of cowardice, but even that was too much to expect. Get you from my sight!”

Petrius flung from the chamber, and then the villa. So be it. The old tyrant had sealed his doom. Petrius was being forced to do something drastic, and do it soon before his father had a chance to change his will.

Though he was very sick, Marcus’ father had one of his personal body slaves lift him from his couch into a chair. He was too proud to receive his firstborn son in bed.
But even so, the pallor of his skin and the amount of weight he had lost betrayed to Marcus the extent of his father’s illness.

Marcus was shocked at how much his father had aged, but he was relieved to see that the burning intensity of life still glowed in his dark eyes. Marcus dropped to his knees so they could embrace.

A blunt, unsentimental man, Titus said baldly, “I have lost the use of my legs, but as a result my brain is twice as sharp.”

Marcus grinned at him. “You always were the most intelligent and astute man I ever met. I am happy to see the years have not altered that.”

“So you have brought a bride home at last. I quite despaired of grandchildren. She must be something special to meet your exacting standards.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, a protest on his lips.

Titus lifted a commanding hand to stay his words. “You are too much like me. You have such lofty principles, you expect the same from others. Duty before pleasure; death before dishonor. Your gods are truth and justice.”

“You make me sound insufferable.”

“We both are. Wherever did you find a paragon worthy of you?” he asked with amusement.

“She is a Briton, as intelligent as she is lovely. I hope you will give us your blessing, Father.”

Titus’ black eyes met those of his beloved son’s and held. “Marcus, your choice is my choice.”

Marcus knew they shared a bond that nothing could ever tear asunder. Their love for each other was unconditional and absolute.

“Now, tell me of this mission you and Julius Classicianus have. If you are to persuade Nero and the Senate to aught, it won’t hurt to have unlimited bribes at your disposal. My wealth is your wealth, Marcus; you know that.”

Marcus told him of the plan to bring about a change that would benefit the entire nation of Britannia. He deeply
appreciated the offer of his father’s wealth for the noble cause and assured Titus he would never use it for personal gain. When he took his leave, Marcus felt assured his father knew he did not covet his wealth, as his brother Petrius did.

When Marcus went up to Diana’s suite to take her down to dinner, he was delighted that she had chosen an elegant stola of jade green with a gold tissue palla and gold sandals with high cork soles. Her hair looked prettier than he had ever seen it, except when it was spread across his pillow. It had been fashioned in a cascade of curls that fell down her back and was threaded with green ribbon and seed pearls.

When they reached the triclinium, the white-haired Titus Magnus already reclined upon his dining couch, and Marcus was glad that he had not mentioned his father’s disability to Diana. She was so tenderhearted she would have treated the older man with an overabundance of kindness, when Marcus knew he much preferred to be treated as a man.

Marcus brought Diana forward with such pride that his father knew how deeply he felt about this woman. Titus liked her immediately. Not only was she beautiful enough to steal a man’s breath away, but there was a delicacy about her fair coloring that reminded him of an alabaster sculpture of a goddess. Was it Venus? No, it was Diana, her namesake. “A thousand welcomes, my dear. I hope my son will make you happy.”

“He has done that already, my lord.” The swift glance she cast Marcus told Titus how much she loved his son.

“Sit by me. A beautiful woman is better than any tonic for an old man.”

As Marcus watched them, it amused him that his father was actually flirting with Diana and it warmed his heart that she was kind enough to flirt back, just a trifle.

The food and the service were impeccable, as only upper
house slaves were allowed to prepare and serve food in the villa of Magnus. When the meal drew to a close, Diana smiled at her future husband’s father. “You have a magnificent home. Thank you for making me feel so welcome.”

“Has Marcus given you the grand tour? Then go, go. Show her how she may dine in the pool without ever getting wet. Show her the birds and the fish. Show her everything.”

Marcus took her outside to the garden and bade her sit on a white marble couch in the pool. Jets of water gushed from beneath the couch as if forced out when she reclined against the pillows, but there was an underground outlet, so the pool filled but never overflowed, and the couch seemed to float.

“When you dine here, the heavier dishes are set by the ledge of the basin, but the lighter dishes in the shape of boats and swans float on the surface and turn round and round.”

Boxwood trees were cut into the shape of animals, and roses bloomed in great abundance. “Beyond the three outdoor bathing pools is a private suite of rooms with enchanting views over the gardens. The bedchamber is soundproof and excludes all light and noise. Adjoining it is a private dining room. Once we are married, we can spend time there.”

“I realize we will have to occupy separate suites until we are married. We must not be indiscreet in your father’s house.”

“He would lecture me severely if I did not treat you like a vestal virgin.”

They went back inside. “Please don’t ask me to show you the jeweled frescoes or the family temple or the library tonight. There is something else I want you to see.”

“Where are you taking me?” she asked innocently as they climbed the marble and ivory staircase.

“To see my chamber.”

Diana was much impressed with the grandeur of his suite. The walls were painted with a series of pictures
showing the campaigns of Alexander. The massive bed was carved with rams’ horns, and a balcony looked over the garden and the ornamental fish ponds.

“It suits you. It is completely masculine. Perhaps I shouldn’t be here, Marcus.”

“Did my father not tell me to show you everything?”

“Yes, but—oh, what are you doing?” she cried in dismay as he began to strip off his clothes.

“I’m showing you everything,” he said with a wide grin.

“You are a devil, Marcus Magnus. You know we must sleep apart!”

He threw back his head and his laughter rolled about the chamber. “No power on earth could keep you from my bed tonight. All too soon I’ll be off with Julius on official business. He agreed to let me come home to see my father on condition that I would stay with him for a week or two while we entertain the senators, individually as well as en masse. His summons could arrive as early as tomorrow.”

She came to him shyly as he sat naked on the bed. “Do you honestly think you’ll get permission to marry?”

“Julius assures me it’s just a formality. If the wheels of officialdom grind too slowly, I’ll oil them with a bribe, never fear. I’m sorry to desert you, love, but there will likely only be enough time to make preparations for the wedding feast and have a wedding dress made. I have the most magnificent ring tucked away and my father will likely give you jewels for a marriage gift.”

She reached up to unwind the ribbons from her curls. “Are you bribing me to be complacent about the bacchanalia you will be attending?”

He opened his knees and drew her against him. “To say nothing of the orgies,” he teased. When he saw her innocent look of vulnerability, his face softened. “The only activities I plan to indulge in are visits to the games and the races at Circus Maximus, to which all Romans are addicted, I’m afraid.”

“Enjoy your city without feeling guilty, Marcus. You know I would hate those things.”

He slipped off her stola and tossed it to the floor. She stood before him adorned in only her sandals and her gold half-coin. When he unclasped the delicate chain and refastened it about her tiny waist, she shivered. Marcus’ eyes smoldered at the erotic picture she made. “Tonight we’ll do only those things you love with a passion,” he said huskily.

When Marcus arrived at the Procurator’s residence, he learned that Julius Classicianus had arranged to take a half-dozen senators to the games that afternoon. Also invited was a military administrator who could provide Marcus with official permission to marry.

“I’m sorry I didn’t bring my brother, Petrius, with me, Julius. The young devil disappeared into the bowels of Rome the moment we arrived. Once he’s indulged all the vices of youth, I’m sure he’ll show up.”

“He already showed up, my friend. I took him to court last night and introduced him to the emperor. He and Nero took to each other immediately. I expect it was your brother’s beauty that attracted Nero. But I believe Petrius has a certain amount of cunning he’ll use to our benefit. We are fortunate to have him in our arena.”

Marcus devoutly hoped so. Petrius would use his cunning to benefit himself, but if he was willing to exploit Nero’s vices, it could save them all time and trouble.

When they arrived at the Claudian Amphitheatre, Marcus was amazed to see Petrius sitting with the emperor and his friends. They were laughing together with such intimate ease, one would have thought Petrius a longtime member of the inner circle.

Julius took Marcus forward to meet the emperor and he hailed him with a military salute, rather than exchanging the kiss of greeting that was gaining favor throughout the city.

“Another Magnus brother, though not of the same mold. Welcome back to Rome. Tomorrow there is to be
venatione,
in my name at the Circus Flavian. You and Julius must honor me with your presence. I guarantee you have never seen anything like it. As well as lions and leopards, there are to be bears. They have been busy for a week designing mountains and caves and they have even put in a small forest.”

“That should be quite a spectacle, Emperor,” Julius said with the necessary enthusiasm.

Petrius hailed his brother with an insolent wave of his hand. The look he gave Marcus clearly implied that he could influence Nero to do his bidding. And indeed, Petrius was thoroughly enjoying his new position of prestige.

The gladiator bouts were many and varied, with several at a time taking place to entertain the thousands who were gathered in the amphitheatre. The masses loved the games, which were free to all. They cheered the valiant, booed unsportsmanlike behavior, and made wagers as to the outcome. The most interesting combats were between the
retiarus,
who fought with nets and tridents, and the
secutors,
who fought with the traditional helmet, sword, and shield.